Falling Inside the Black
by hitherelovely
Summary: After being forced to attend the prestigious Weston Academy, Ciel realizes that his mysterious English professor is much more than just a teacher. He's a demon from the past, haunting him for his sins. The only problem is, this devil plans on having him...all of him.


_Midway upon the journey of our _

_life_

_I found myself within a forest dark,_

_For the straightforward pathway had been lost_

_Canto I of the Inferno_

* * *

It was the new fall semester at Weston Academy, the expensive and elite boarding school located just outside of London, accessible only to the exclusive top-class. Leaves danced from trees in a myriad of colors as the weather cooled down and the air became vicious in its chilling bite. Spoiled children bid their wealthy parents farewell as servants carried their tons of luggage to the dorms, grunting under the weight of their precious cargo.

Wine-colored eyes practically rolled at the sight and a soft sigh escaped from tightly pressed lips.

_Humans are such selfish creatures_, he mused as a servant who accidentally dropped a suit case was immediately kicked to the ground by his master.

Kids these days, so coddled, _pampered_, would never know the true meaning of suffering. They practically inherited everything; their parents didn't have to work, neither did their grandparents, so on and so forth—and neither would they. They would not know the toils of enslavement, of working for measly wages, or the fight for survival. Their titles—of _lord_ this and _lady_ that, were all passed down, not really belonging to them. Just their damning bloodline.

It sickened him.

He kept watching, seeing the same scene play out over and over again from his classroom window.

There was, however, one sight that caught his eye. Caused him to almost drop the stick of chalk in his fingers as he wrote on the blackboard. _Almost_—if he was prone to such things.

A young boy, probably no older than fifteen, held a single suitcase in his hands as he trudged up the stairs to the dormitory.

Raising an eyebrow at this unfamiliar sight, he had to admit he was baffled. Though it was his first year teaching at this particular school, he knew only the rotten kids of the richest in England would dare step foot into Weston, but there was a _child_ in the academy.

So how come this particular boy had only a small bag of belongings and no servants? No one to be at his beck and call?

_How utterly unusual. _

Upon closer inspection, he allowed a small, quietly sadistic smile to grace his face.

The boy was _struggling_.

The suitcase, as small as it was, seemed to be too heavy for the delicate doll. And he certainly looked like a doll, with his porcelain face and small cherry lips, which were currently pulled back in a grimace as he hauled his belongings to his room. He had slim limbs and even from the view of his classroom window, the professor could see that the student was frail and petite. He honestly considered helping the boy, who seemed too dainty to handle any labor at all, like he might break and shatter into a thousand pieces if he had to hold anything larger than his luggage. But then again, he was just another student.

Just another obnoxious brat with too much money and God's good graces.

Just another _noble_.

Soon enough however, the boy disappeared into the dormitory and red eyes simmered as he exhaled, bored once more by the sight of yet more carriages arriving with entire coaches full of luggage.

* * *

Slate blue hair was blown rather exasperatedly off of a pale forehead. Ciel Phantomhive almost growled in annoyance, if he was one to be emotional, but because he was not inclined to such behaviors, he just settled with glaring at passing students who quickly darted away, not daring to suffer his wrath.

He knew he was… a _little _stunted, but honestly though—was he actually _this_ weak?

He was starting to regret forbidding his annoying servants to come. Bard had insisted on cooking Ciel a farewell breakfast (the young master shuddered at the thought), Meyrin declared that she would set up his room and Finny pleaded the young noble so that he could help carry his luggage.

Ciel refused all of them.

Grabbing the handle of his suitcase, yet again, Ciel walked up, slowly, lumbering with effort really, up another floor.

_When I find out how the _bloody hell_ I ended up on the damned _eleventh_ floor…_he seethed quietly, ignoring snickers from older boys who laughed at his inability to carry his luggage.

After much huffing and puffing and gasping and almost shoving someone down eleven flights of stairs, Ciel finally arrived in his dorm. Stifling a curse, he quickly unlocked the door. Dropping his luggage on the wooden floor, he surveyed his surroundings.

Ciel scoffed at the massive suite that awaited him.

_Of course_, he thought bitterly, glancing at the immaculate suite that awaited him.

Phatomhive—what _couldn't_ he get with that name? What couldn't he obtain? He had learned, in the cruelest way possible, that _everybody_ had a price. People he once thought were actually his friends were more like slaves, kissing his feet for the quick bit of cash flung at them. Certainly not friends, merely…_possessions_.

Possessions that whisper sweet enticing words just to get some money so they can brag to everybody how close they are to little Lord Phantomhive.

What none of his so-called friends knew was that he had to pay for his fortune.

A debt paid in blood.

Quickly cutting off his thoughts before they turned to more morbid musings, Ciel brushed off imaginary dust from his delicate hands before looking around his immense dorm.

Over the years, the young master had come to the realization that the world has levels of hierarchy that penetrates into every society ever established, every culture that dares to be defined. This hierarchy, this _food-chain_, does not change, not ever. Much like in the wild, with barbaric beasts and untamed animals, the strong survive. The weak fight to adapt, struggle to live, risk it all for even the remote possibility of continuing their pathetic existences, barely even able to be called _life_.

It could be argued that this is shown most fervently in no other place as domesticated as _school_.

He surveyed the dazzling and no doubt highly expensive room—something that most students would not be able to afford.

_It was true_, he chuckled bitterly, his name _could_ buy everything.

For most students at Weston, they were subjugated to sharing a fairly large room with a roommate and forced to endure the absolute _horrors_ of public restrooms and baths—something most of the pampered nobles had trouble adjusting to.

This, however, was not as bad as the other boarding schools which typically had four people share a single room. At Weston, two people shared a suite-like atmosphere, complete with a fully-stocked kitchen and bathroom.

Luckily for Ciel, his bloodline had preceded him.

Although Weston was already an academy of prestige, for those with the most power, the most influence, there was a special place in Hell—and Weston—for them.

Grand suites, they're called.

Adorned with a giant bedroom, kitchen, living area, bathroom, and even a private office, most freshmen, like Ciel, entering the high-school level of the Academy, would not dare dream of even glancing into this room.

To gain favor with the highest-ranking nobles of society, Weston would pick out the elite of the elite and grant them grand suites, which would in turn, allow more funding and better reputation for the college.

Ciel shrugged, not casting another glance to the extravagant living quarters. Truth be told, he would gladly trade somebody else this room, mainly due to the fact that he didn't even want to be here. He would be running his company right now if it was not for Tanaka's insistence on "proper" education.

Eyes almost rolling at the thought, Ciel ignored the irritating habit. Tanaka _knew_ he was completely capable of running Funtom without having to go to some fancy school. Problem was, the board of investors did not share the same view. So, here he was, stuck in school for four years.

Not even bothering to unpack his things, Ciel settled for heading to the only place in the entire campus that even remotely interested him—the library.

* * *

The morning passed by rather quickly and Sebastian spent the hour that the students were unpacking to clean his classroom, which entailed of straightening chairs and desks and wiping off the blackboard.

Eight o'clock rolled around with a loud bell tolling from the central tower announcing the beginning of the new school year. With some grumbles, older students meandered into classrooms whereas the obvious freshmen chirped excitedly to one another until slowly but surely, most of the kids had filtered in.

Sebastian Michaelis sighed, textbook open in hand as he watched the approaching students shriek and discuss the latest topics about scandals, who's-dating-who, and other unimportant, trifling matters.

He walked into his new classroom, glasses perched on his slim nose as he appraised the students who quickly ceased chattering the second he stepped through the door.

Typically boisterous kids immediately took to their seats the second his intimidating figure loomed through the doorway. Even though these students were easily eighteen or nineteen, the truth was, he frightened them.

Scarlet eyes gleaming, he smirked.

Silently, he walked up to the board. In an elegant font, he printed his name and course, _MR. MICHAELIS: ADVANCED ENGLISH_ before turning to the students.

"Good morning," he said softly, his velvet voice echoing seamlessly around the room, "My name is Mr. Michaelis and I shall be your new English professor."

Sebastian immediately commanded everybody's attention—some favorable, some green with jealousy. He was beautiful, in every sense of the word. He was fair, with thick dark hair that framed his face. His wine-colored eyes were captivatingly sensual and with his tall, imposing stature, nobody missed him.

All across the room, young women, and some men, fawned over their new delightful teacher. Every pair of eyes were on him, gleaming with excitement or bursting with newfound love—every pair but one.

Frowning, Mr. Michaelis turned to the one and only seat in the entire room with the missing chair.

_Somebody_ was missing.

Quickly checking roll, Sebastian's lips pursed at the name of the single student who dared to skip out on the first day of school.

Ciel.

Ciel _Phantomhive_.

Lips curling in disgust at the mere mention of the vile name, Sebastian scoffed. Of course, the most spoiled rich boy decided that he could skip without facing consequences.

That may have worked with the other professors, but unlike his weaker colleagues, Sebastian was not one to be tempted with something as unreliable as money.

Voice as coiled as a snake about to strike, Sebastian spoke quietly.

"Is anyone aware of the whereabouts of Ciel Phantomhive?"

Eyes widened as the students picked up on the barely disguised anger hiding behind their professor's melodious baritone.

Trying to both make his classmate suffer and gain affection from his new teacher, a blonde boy with bright amethyst eyes quickly said, "I-I saw him in the library, sir."

Sebastian smiled, a lying, deceptive smile.

"Very well then. Please turn to page 349 in your textbooks. We are learning about _Perceval and the Holy Grail_ today."

* * *

After all his classes for that day, Sebastian wasted no time in walking to the library, even though it was well past five o'clock and the boy had probably already wandered off somewhere else.

He didn't even know why the absence of one student was bothering him so much. It was just one kid, it wasn't like half of his class decided to riot or launch a coup d'état.

But still.

It was bothering him, distracting him from explaining symbolism, keeping him from properly answering questions about metaphors and disrupting him from being a _teacher_.

He scowled.

Ciel _Phantomhive_ was not going to take that away from him. His damn bloodline had already taken so much, almost everything someone could steal from another living being, in the long, _long_ life Sebastian had been enduring.

He would not steal this away too.

Marching up to the library, Sebastian was not surprised to find it completely abandoned. Students were much more likely to be found outside, frolicking and giggling than in someplace as stifling and ancient as this archive. The sun had also begun its descent down the sky and many of the younger students had already begun to retire.

It made it easy to spot him.

His brows raised as he took in the young boy. He expected someone older, seeing as this child didn't seem like he could work cognitively balanced with the upperclassman in his advanced English class.

Then again, money _was_ filthy. It filtered every pore of society, darkening and corrupting like cancer, corroding every viable cell until none remained and death was the unescapable end. Money changed people, turning innocence into carnal wrath, warping purity into something darker, more disturbing, lustful, and utterly consuming.

But it didn't show on him.

The boy was curled up against a window, on a ledge that peered out against the glass, soft plush cushions lining the seat that protected his frail limbs from the cold wood.

Sebastian's eyes widened as he recognized the boy; pale skinny limbs that couldn't lift up a single suitcase.

His eyes narrowed—a Phantomhive, without a servant?

_Impossible_.

Ciel's cobblestone-tinted hair was messily splayed across his forehead, pallid ceramic face smooth of imperfections; he was the epitome of a little china doll as he slumbered on. His tie was messed up, his shirt rumpled and his fists were curled, digging into the novel splayed open on his lap. His pink lips were open and flushed as he breathed gently.

He looked absolutely _divine_.

From the window, fading sunlight streamed in, creating a halo of light that framed his face.

Sebastian took in a sharp inhale of breath.

He certainly _appeared_ angelic, with his long midnight lashes brushing innocently against his pale cheeks, but the young professor knew better.

You never trusted a _Phantomhive_.

Sebastian, with graceful movements, picked up the rather large book off of the small boy's lap and with a quick utilization of gravity, dropped it back down, secretly and maliciously amused by the small gasp that escaped the petite boy's lips.

"Mr. Phantomhive, how lovely of you to skip my class for a mid-morning nap."

Eyes blinking wearily open, Ciel looked up.

Icy sapphire immediately clashed with burning scarlet, each trying to envelope, suffocate the other without getting scalded themselves.

Scoffing in disgust, Ciel broke eye-contact first, standing up and placing the book gently on the seat behind him. His mouth pulled back into a scowl as he noted his odds.

This man was much, _much_ taller than him.

And apparently, he was a teacher—_his_ teacher.

Not that it really mattered.

"I'm sorry," he said, eyes half-lidded like he was staring at a piece of trash, "You must be _Sebastian_."

The teacher blinked, slightly shocked at the blatant display of disrespect.

Recovering quickly, he leaned down to the boy's level, and said smoothly, without a ripple, "It's _Mr. Michaelis_ to you, boy."

Aristocratic eyes flickered like shards of ice gleaming in the sun.

"Is it now?"

"Yes, I believe it is," Sebastian stated, "You will address me as such from now on."

Ciel arched an eyebrow.

"And if I don't?"

Sebastian smiled, an unnatural unnerving grin crawling onto his face.

"Have you ever heard of detention, Phantomhive?"

* * *

"Copy this."

Ciel scoffed as a dictionary landed on his desk with a heavy thud.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Sebastian laughed, not a normal laugh, or even his usual chuckle. It was a laugh stained with the darkness of the sinfully corrupted and blemished with the inevitability of eternal damnation.

His scarlet eyes gleamed with a hint of sadistic joy.

"I'm afraid I do not kid, Mr. Phantomhive."

Ciel scowled. He was tired, hungry, and this teacher decided to drag him back to his classroom, when it was already well into the evening, just to teach him a "lesson".

Propping his feet up onto the desk, Ciel crossed his hands behind his neck and glanced up at his teacher, hubris lacing his every movement.

"What would you have me do, _Mr. Michaelis_?" He spat out the name like it was poison.

Sebastian walked around the desk containing the small boy, like a lion dark panther circling its fallen prey.

"Well," he mused, finger idling tracing the table, "C is for Ciel."

The teen stared at him in confusion.

"What?"

The professor smiled again.

"I want you to copy down every definition for the letter C from this," he tapped the dictionary gently, eyes smoldering with sadistic delight.

Azure orbs blazing, Ciel began to protest but Sebastian silenced him by placing his gloved finger on the boy's lips.

"Ah, ah, ah. No excuses, Phantomhive," he said, "You will not be allowed back in your dorm until you finish this. You will also not be permitted to have any food and…" he paused, "If you skip my class, or any other class again, you will be placed on academic probation, _immediately_."

The young noble stared at him in complete and utter shock.

Was the man stark raving _mad_?

What authority could he possibly have against him?

And students skipped all the bloody time as well, so why single him out? What did he do to this malicious professor?

Cerulean eyes narrowed as Ciel thought of the only reason this teacher could hold a vendetta against him before even having met him.

"Who's paying you to do this?"

Sebastian paused, eyes flickering towards the boy, slightly surpised.

"Pardon?"

Gritting his teeth, Ciel repeated, voice full of malice, "I said, who is paying you to do this?"

Sebastian laughed, a light chuckle full of anything but amusement. This boy was so arrogant, so full of pride, that he thought Sebastian would succumb to money, just to torture him.

What the boy didn't realize was that he didn't _need_ a reason to make Ciel suffer.

"Nobody, dear. I just like teaching imprudent brats a lesson, is all."

Ciel glared at the man, forcing all his hate into his gaze. Sebastian didn't respond, but opted to set a stack of blank paper onto the boy's desk.

"Do enjoy, Phantomhive."

And then he walked out of the classroom, leaving Ciel with no choice other than to copy the dictionary.

* * *

Ciel was exhausted.

Completely and utterly drained of any energy he could possibly possess. His hand was cramping and now was having little twitches, blisters formed from where the pen met his skin and blotches of ink somehow managed to stain his pallid cheeks.

Despite all these things, however, the boy smiled a victorious grin.

He was _done_.

Completely finished with every damn letter that bloody English professor made him do.

The sun had already begun to illuminate the skies and a quick glance at his watch proved that it was already five o'clock.

Standing up, he dropped them off at his teacher's desk and sauntered out of the classroom, determined to reach his dorm without passing out.

* * *

Coy violet eyes gleamed at the mammoth stack of papers mounting the teacher's desk.

At the top of the first page, in a familiar, elegant script, was written:

_C is for Ciel_

"Oh my," he chuckled, "Is this Ciel's punishment?"

Smiling devilishly, Alois Trancy picked up a bottle of ink, unscrewed the cap, and poured the dark ink over the entire stack until the blackness ran off the edges and dripped onto the floor.

* * *

**Warning: This story will have mature content**

**Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji does not belong to me & the cover picture used does not either.**

**I'm sorry for abandoning my other stories, but rest assured, as this winter break continues, I will update all my other ones!**

**This is my first Kuroshitsuji fanfic ever so please enjoy and review(;**

**Oh, and MERRY (early) CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!**

**THANK YOU FOR READING!**


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